


Day 16- (Sex) In A Public Place

by Jakathine (orphan_account)



Series: 30-Day nsfw Challenge [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Paint, Deepthroating, Drunk Sex, Gay Bar, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jakathine





	Day 16- (Sex) In A Public Place

Sherlock stomped his foot impatiently and was only appeased by the light touch of John’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sherlock, come on. I need you to cooperate with us here.” Lestrade practically begged as Sherlock continued to upturn his nose at the case file he was holding out towards the detective.

“It is a meager four.” Sherlock sniffed, lips pursing into a semi-pout.

John gave Sherlock a look and rolled his eyes, holding his hand out for the file, which Lestrade gladly handed to him. After a cursory glance through it he snapped the file closed.

“We’ll accept it.” John said flatly before walking down the hall.

Sherlock was hot on his heels and pushed him into a nearby wall, “What the hell was that?”

John straightened his shoulders to draw himself to his full height, even though full height was still considerably shorter than Sherlock’s, “Because it’s a decent case, besides if you figure out the suspect quickly you and I could have a nice evening, couldn’t we?”

At the last part of what John said Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a smile, “You just miss clubbing, don’t you?”

John licked his lips but did not waver, “Perhaps.”

The two kept a sparked eye contact only broken by a hesitant cough as Anderson had been the one unfortunate to chase after them to give them another file.

“What do you want?” Sherlock scoffed, not moving.

Anderson shifted on his feet and held out the file, “Lestrade said to give this to you. It has further details on the club and the picture of the suspect you’re to look for.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and snatched the folder up, stalking out the doors while John apologized to Anderson and quickly followed.

Later that evening:

“Are you serious.” John more of stated than asked as he admired himself in the mirror, leather studded pants tucked into laced up boots and a muscle shirt close fitting to his form.

“Quite.” Sherlock chuckled, slipping on a shredded black shirt that stopped at his mid-drift, allowing for a wide expanse of pale skin as the torn jeans he wore hung solely off his hip bones.

John inwardly appraised Sherlock’s lean form but his body betrayed him, the tight pants giving him away in an instant to the observant Holmesian eyes. Sherlock grinned feral-like and strode over to the room to cup his jaw.

“Like you said if we finish this case quickly we would have a _nice_ evening to ourselves.” Sherlock kissed John’s lips and purposefully sucked on his lower lip before giving it a teasing nibble.

John tilted forwards into the kiss but met air as Sherlock moved to the side to scoop up a loop of chain to fix onto his waist and into his pocket, where upon he secured it to his wallet. John cursed good-naturedly and strode out of 221b with Sherlock.

“Marshall Ligins is the man whom we have to keep an out for.” Sherlock told John once they were inside the club, the thrumming music partially drowning out his voice, making him lean down close to John’s ear “Roughly 180 cm tall, short blond hair, stocky build.”

John nodded and observed the club, with its elaborately colored walls and strobe lights casting blazon colors onto the dance floor while simultaneously a UV filter shone off from the sides to highlight the paint on people’s faces and arms.

A smallish man sporting a blue mohawk was sitting by the bar, jars of body paint strewn out on the table in front of him as he patiently sat. A price sheet was propped up next to him. John tugged on Sherlock’s arm and guided him over to the man, who greeted them warmly.

“Hello, boys. Gotta design in mind?” the man inquired, smiling up at the two of them with twinkling amber eyes and taut lowerlip rings.

John grinned, “He wants a skull design. Right here.” He motioned towards Sherlock’s exposed mid-drift.

Sherlock glared at John but did not say anything, the prospect of a skull design not sounding too awful. He sat back and let the man work on his abdomen. Surprisingly the man dipped his fingers into the multicolored paints and worked on the painting with them instead of brushing. Sherlock’s face flushed as his eyes met John’s but John merely crossed his arms and smirked, opting to look away in favor of looking for the suspect.

About five or so minutes later the artist was done, an elaborate abstract skull spread across Sherlock’s abdomen in fluorescent rainbow colors. John shelled out the money for the design, which was about ten pounds, and thanked the man for his work. The man winked and made a small motioning towards Sherlock.

“Don’t worry. It washes off skin _and_ clothing.” He added with a wink.

John winked back and joined Sherlock where he now stood at the bar, sipping on a vodka and tonic. John ordered a mojito, removing one of the leaves when it was served and ruefully chewing on it.

About thirty-five minutes and two more drinks later, Sherlock tilted his head towards their right, “There he is.”

John followed his gaze and indeed saw the man whom they had been keeping an eye out for. Sherlock whipped out his phone and sent a rapid-fire text to Lestrade before leaning towards John, who had another piece of mint betwixt his teeth. Sherlock plucked it from John’s lips with his own mouth and chewed it slowly, his eyes not leaving John’s. With a grin, John reached up to tap Sherlock’s nose and motion towards a rather dimly lit corner of the club out of range of a majority of the lights where John had noticed a few other couples had sneaked quickies.

In mere moments John’s back was pressed up against the wall, an extravagantly tipsy and horny detective rutting against his thigh as they kissed and bit at one another’s throats. Sherlock’s surprisingly nimble fingers worked John’s trousers open and pushed down to his upper thighs. John barely registered this before Sherlock took within his mouth John’s length and began to suck him off in long hard strokes. John groaned and was thankful the still loud music covered his obscene noises as Sherlock deep-throated his cock. From the depths of his pockets, Sherlock produced a condom and small packet of lube, covering his cock with both before flipping John around to have his chest pressed roughly against the wall. Belatedly John realized a few people were glancing their way but the looks were more of pride than of judgment and only caused John to become more aroused. Previously already prepared from their night previous it took little time for Sherlock’s entire cock to slide into him and the two set a deep rhythm that had John quivering.

Sherlock dug the nails of his right hand into John’s thighs and John was just reaching a climaxing point when Lestrade and a whole troupe of Scotland Yard policemen stormed the place. John froze but Sherlock continued unperturbed, causing John’s knees to buckle and him to shout as he came across the slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, his own two hands gripping onto the wall for leverage.

Unfortunately someone turned off the music at exactly that point and Sherlock and John were met with quite an amount of staring eyes.

“Oh my god.” John blushed furiously, pushing Sherlock off, which involved a rather wet popping noise, and refastening his trousers in haste.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, tucking his still condom-encased erection into his trousers as best as possible as Lestrade maneuvered his way to them. The suspect, on the other hand, was being escorted out personally by Donovan and another officer.

“Sorry to um…interrupt..” Lestrade attempted to say but was stopped by Sherlock being mere inches from his face in an instant.

“We’re going back home. Don’t bother us.” He snarled before grabbing John by the wrist and half-dragging him away.

John could only give a sheepish shrug back at the poor flustered Lestrade before taking his wrist out of Sherlock’s grip in favor of walking beside him.

As they waited for a cab Sherlock glanced down at his abdomen, where the rainbow skull design was only minimally rubbed away, and commented, “I want you to go so hard on me that this design is positively smeared on everything.”

John gave Sherlock a quick peck on the neck just as the cab pulled up to the curb, “I would have it no other way.”


End file.
